


Clubs, clubs! These lovers will not keep the peace.

by bluecarrot



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Enemies With Benefits, Friends With Benefits, Gay Sex, Gratuitous Smut, Hamburr, Human Disaster Aaron Burr, I am tired, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Poor Life Choices, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Sex, Smoking, Smut, burrens - Freeform, except not friends, general lack of communication all around, gratuitous description of Hamilton taking off his clothes, just FYI, pretty much all the sex tags but the pollen one, sex by proxy, so much porn, they're all jerks, zero fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:22:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9001483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecarrot/pseuds/bluecarrot
Summary: Aaron Alex and John have a bit of a mess going on.* "For shame! Be friends, and join for that you jar:'tis policy and stratagem must dothat you affect, and so must you resolvethat what you cannot as you would achieve,you must perforce accomplish as you may."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [holograms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/holograms/gifts).



> written 12/24/2016, as a sort of Thing with holograms -- check out her [the bee does quickly sting](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9060136) for her interpretation of the idea.

Burr had somehow ended up in two relationships, simultaneously. He wasn't sure how that had happened; he didn't consider himself polyamorous, and anyway this set-up was closer to cheating since neither of his partners knew about the other one.

He didn't feel badly for them; he felt badly for himself. He hated himself really, and at any given time he hated at least one of his boyfriends.

Today he was feeling a bit fond of Laurens. It was an interesting sensation. Laurens had come over with a set of coffees ("Yours is half a sugar, no cream -- I know, I know") and a raging urge to fuck Aaron into the mattress until he came untouched, and that was fine -- that was more than fine -- and when Laurens moaned "Alex" that was fine too; they both knew what they were there for.

 _Alexander_ , he thought, and opened his eyes. Lauren was checking his phone and Burr didn't mind that either. "Let me know when you can go again."

"Ah. You mean today?"

"I do mean today."

"It's gonna be a while, I'm -- oh that _fucker_. Oh that little  _shithead_."

"What did he do? Let me see. Give it over."

But Laurens just turned the phone so both of them could read the post -- or at least the first sentences of what was sure to be a poorly-edited 1500 word screed against Charles Lee.

Burr moaned; he pressed his hands over his eyes. "He's asking to be shot. He _deserves_ to be shot. Why the hell can't he leave well enough alone?"

"He's Hamilton."

There was fondness in Laurens' voice. It was unacceptable; it was not to be borne. "Roll over."

"What, are you topping? Are you sure? I can't help you, I'm not ready."

"I am," said Burr, and pushed him down.

  
*

  
Burr was lucky; he knew it. It was easy for him to pretend Hamilton was beneath him, receiving him, making those beautifully ragged gasping breaths. Laurens was thinner than Alexander, more rangy-looking, but the mellow tone of their skin was the same and even some of their mannerisms were similar; they had all but grown up together. They were best friends.

And Burr was on the outside.

He bit a circle into Laurens' shoulder and harder than he should have but he was so angry and the body was so good, so good --

 _Alex_ let out a moan and Burr did it again

 

*

  
It was late when they finished, and both of them were tired (despite the coffee), and irritable.

Laurens moved in for a kiss good-bye and Burr turned away. "Don't be cute."

"Well. Fuck you too, then."

So Burr started to apologize but it was too late; he was already gone, stomping out into the snow, the long scarf (a gift from Hamilton) trailing out behind him and flapping in the wind, and Burr went back to hating himself alone.

 

*

  
Three months since they'd started. "Sex by proxy," Laurens called it once, stealing Burr's nervy post-coital cigarette, laughing. "This is ridiculous," he'd said.

" _You're_ ridiculous," said Burr.

"Don't make me hate you more than I already do," said Laurens.

Burr had just looked at him. He remembered how Laurens moaned when Burr pressed his fingers inside him, how he choked and shut his eyes and swallowed with his mouth stretched lovely and wide around Burr, how he'd bloomed over in bruises down his waist and marks on his thighs. "More," he'd said. "Alex please, please, _please_ make me come, make me, let me, I need to come, I _need_ it--"

And Burr complied.

 

*

 

It was raining and cold and dreary and drizzly and dim, and someone knocked on Burr's door. He didn't expect any company; he was worn out from working and already undressed, wearing only pajama bottoms. (He did pull on a t-shirt first.)

And there was Alexander.

Something clenched in Burr's stomach and something else ached in his chest but he didn't move away to let him inside. "What is it?"

"Are you busy?"

Burr would have taken a crow-bar to any plans he had for Alexander to arrive on his doorstep, though he did not do anything so foolish as to confess this to the object. "Where's your wife tonight?"

"Visiting her sister. Come on, Burr. I'm -- I need some company."

Burr counted to seven _(one-Mississippi-two-Mississippi)_  and sighed, like this really was some kind of _imposition_. "Come on. Don't go anywhere, for god's sake; you can stand here and drip dry. You're a damn mess." He shut the door and locked it and turned around and tried to say something else: the words caught in his throat --

\-- because Alex was stripping. He was bare to the waist already, bent over toweling off his hair with his shirt, toeing out of his shoes where he stood. Not quite as thin as Laurens, who ate like a horse and looked for seconds, still his muscles were clear as they moved about in his back and shoulders -- and in his chest, too -- because he straightened now, and smiled. "Is this better? Can I move away from the door now?"

Fuck. _Fuck_. Burr didn't move. "Where did you want to go?"

A beat of silence, and Alexander lost his smile. "I was thinking of the bedroom." Another pause. "If that's still something you're into. I'm sorry -- I know it's been -- it's been a few weeks."

Five weeks and six days. "You're presumptuous, Alexander."

"I couldn't get away. The children were so busy with school and Eliza had her volunteering and it was a madhouse at work and -- and you're not really going to turn me down, Burr? Are you?" He was wheedling now. Burr repressed a shiver. _One Mississippi, two_ ... "Come on, Burr. Please? _Please?_ "

That was _it_ \-- that was too much; he couldn't take it. He kissed him hard and thank god thank _god_  Alex was still responsive to him, he was still sweet and quick to move, almost like he really had been waiting for this, like he'd wanted Burr for weeks--

Except that Alex didn't want _him_ at all.

He couldn't let himself forget that. "Get on your knees" he said, angry with himself now, and when Alexander didn't move at once he pushed him a little -- just a little -- just a firm palm on his chest. " _Now_ , Alex."

It didn't take long. A little force. That was what Alex wanted, anyway. He wanted the chance to lie.

Burr understood. 

  
*

  
They made it to the bedroom fast enough and then it was Burr again with a man beneath him, taking him and taking him and sweating and swearing, grinding his teeth, trying to make it last. "Alexander," he said aloud, and bit down on that precious mouth. _Mine mine mine finally mine forever and ever you are mine._

"John," said Alex, on a gasp. _"John."_

  
_*_

  
Burr came inside and stayed there a long moment, hating to move away, waiting until he felt Alexander _(Alex Alex my Alex)_ growing impatient; he shifted outward and worked his way downwards again with kisses and tongue and tiny nips while Alex whimpered and complained, begging "Your mouth your mouth please I need it please," and Alex didn't specify _who_ he wanted to suck him off so Burr didn't bother to imitate the speech and habits of Laurens, the normal mask Alexander required. Burrwas the one here, goddammit, _he_ was the one Alex came to, and did it matter that Alex was using him? They used each other. Alexander pretended he was John Laurens and Burr pretended that Alex wanted him, and it was fine -- it was fine.

And oh he loved the taste of Alex when he was like this on the desperate verge; he liked to find a new way to make him clutch the sheets and shout, and he liked that it took so little. Blowing was boring but _teasing_ , oh that was something else --

Alexander arched his back and reached out and spoke nonsense when he came, and it was beautiful beautiful to watch his face turn from yearning to softness, and it was easy for Burr to lie to himself, then.

But it never lasted long. Alex gathered up his composure and his pride like scattered clothes; he never wanted to linger afterwards, he never wanted to give anything like kisses or conversation -- nothing that would look like affection.

Burr pulled on his pants and walked with his lover to the door and when Alex stood a moment hesitant, Burr took his face and kissed him hard and again and again until Alex was breathing hard and whimpering again, too. And his pupils were huge. "Burr, I -- I'm not sure when I can see you again."

Was he breaking it off? "That's fine," said Burr, lying.

"Maybe not until school lets out in June."

"That's fine."

"I'll let you know. I'll text you, Burr."

"Don't bother." But his mouth ached from wanting.

Alex smiled at him, looking fond and uncertain, and that made the ache start up somewhere else.

 

*

 

He texted Laurens almost at once -- hating himself, hating Alex, hating Laurens too for good measure. He found the wages of sin to be swift indeed: not even five minutes later he was locking the door and walking to the bus stop, and thirty minutes after that they were kissing and biting and stripping each other free from clothes without even taking the time to move apart. 

"You smell so good," Laurens said, when Burr came up for air. "Sweet almost. Especially here." He nuzzled down along Burr's neck, nosing the clavicle. "Mmm."

That was one of Alex's favorite spots. "Ah," said Burr. "Let's do this in your bedroom, shall we?"

"It's messy. Let's stay here." He was groping, rubbing, convincingly nude. "Who goes in who?"

"It's _whom._ And whatever. I don't care right now." But he thought again of his beautiful Alexander -- Alex reacting, Alex shifting on the mattress, hungry and sweating and pleading for his touch -- and he said, "No. I'll go again. I'll top."

Laurens was already slicking them both with lube, not bothering to warm it between his hands. "Maybe I want to do it."

 _"Shut up,"_ said Burr, furious and empty and dying with the pain of it; he pushed him down and held his hand over Laurens' mouth as he cried out and didn't move it away until his noises changed to something softer, something different.

 

*

 

They opened the door to the balcony and sat outside, watching the city settle into evening. Burr was smoking again -- his usual tell.

"Do you think he'll ever want me?" said Laurens. He sounded neither especially grievous nor angry, as if the question were entirely academic.

"No. He doesn't think of you like that. I've told you and told you."

"I know. I know."

Burr carefully inhaled through the cigarette and exhaled around it, through nose and mouth, letting it hang off his lips. He tried to think of something to say that would stop this conversation and make sure it never happened again. He managed: "This is the best you're going to get, so it's got to be enough. _Let_ it be enough."

"Does it bother you?" And Laurens shifted his head, resting on his knees, so he was looking at Burr now. "Knowing you'll never have him."

Burr shook his head; it was so obviously an evasion that he kept on doing it, like repetition and emphasis would fill in for honesty. "I have what I need. I have enough."

"Make it be enough," murmured Laurens, more echo than agreement. "I will never understand you."

"I don't expect you to," said Burr, and flicked his ash over the edge of the balcony without looking to see who might be below.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Titus Andronicus_ is my favorite of all the plays attributed to Shakespeare (no way he wrote this one).
> 
> Come argue proper attribution of literature with me over on tumblr
> 
> @littledeconstruction


End file.
